


Home With You

by SylvieW



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alive Hale Family, Canon Divergence--Alternate canon, Carpenter Derek, Fluff, M/M, Magic Stiles, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Stilinski Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvieW/pseuds/SylvieW
Summary: Stiles is sent to stay with the Hales so he can learn to control his spark and his impulses. Everyone treats him like a guest or a student. Except Derek.





	1. Chapter 1

**********

Stiles knew he’d fucked up when his Dad came home without his badge. He regretted taking the transport van in the first place, since it had only held Jackson for a matter of hours before he was back to harassing the town with murder and mayhem. 

He’d figured he’d have time to fix it though, that after the kanima was banished and Jackson was a slightly furry douchebag instead of a psychotic lizard, he’d be able to tell his dad all about it, do some extra chores, spend some much-needed time bonding and they’d get through it.

He didn’t blame his dad for sending him away, not really. He might have, except his dad had looked so fucking tired. He did blame his Aunt Marcia though. She’d stuck her nose in and suddenly Stiles went from “a little excitable” to “out of control.” His “untapped potential” turned to “a powder keg, ready to explode.” 

His dad had looked tired, and Aunt Marcia had painted it like it was best for everyone that Stiles was sent away. He’d begged his dad to reconsider, but there just hadn’t been enough _time_.

He hadn’t even finished out the semester, and here he was on a plane, being shipped across the country. Away from Scott’s support and comfort, away from Lydia’s challenging brilliance. Away from his dad.

He didn’t rush off the plane with all the other travellers because he wasn’t sure what was waiting for him. There were too many things to grab his attention on the flight for him to sleep and he’d been too nervous to eat, so he felt a bit shaky, definitely lacking the mental strength to push through the crowd.

When he finally emerged from the gate, he scanned the people waiting and found a haphazard sign with his name written on it. He approached the man holding it, appraising his sturdy build, dark looks, and frowning face. “That’s me,” Stiles told him.

“Got luggage?” The man asked.

“Some,” Stiles said. It was hard to pack up your whole life with only a few hours notice, so a lot of his things would be shipped later. If he needed them. He hoped he wouldn't, because that would mean he’d be going home instead.

They went to baggage claim and as they waited Stiles asked, “who are you?”. 

“Arthur,” he said. “Talia’s husband. She’s a busy woman. Didn’t have time to come get you herself.”

“Of course,” Stiles said. Talia had been his mom’s roommate in college. They’d appreciated having someone around who was aware of the supernatural world, Talia being a werewolf, and Claudia possessing the spark that she’d pass on to Stiles. When they'd both graduated, Talia had returned to her territory, as werewolves poised to be alphas did, and Claudia traveled around for a while, finally settling in California with Stiles’ dad. They’d kept in touch, but when she’d died, the correspondence between his family and hers had dwindled. He couldn’t remember many details about the pack. He knew that Talia was the alpha of the Hale pack now, and Deaton was her emissary, but that was all the info he had. The rest of the pack was a blurred memory of Christmas cards and updating emails.

Arthur lifted Stiles’ bags off the belt with ease and waved him off when he offered to take one. Stiles told him all about the plane ride as they trudged through the crowds, out to the parking lot, where the bags were lifted into the back of a dirty red pick-up truck. He bit his tongue as they joined the line of cars heading for the highway. He’d been snapped at before for chattering while people were trying to merge. Once they were on a straight-away, Stiles started asking questions about the pack to which he only got one word answers or a shrug, so he moved on to questions about New York, which yielded even less. Eventually, he stopped expecting an answer at all and just commented on what he could see out the window and any thoughts that came to mind.

It took two hours to get to the Hale property. The deeper into the woods they got, the more Stiles’ nervous patter increased. The trees cleared to reveal a large house with sleek lines at the side of the clearing. The center of the clearing was taken up by a series of deep, man made troughs of water that looked to be at least 10 feet deep, maybe more. Some areas were bigger than others, or more rectangular, completely asymmetrical, which grated on Stiles’ brain as he searched for a pattern. Some sections were filled with lily pads, while others were completely clear and calm. 

Tucked into the woods on the far side of the pools was a much smaller house, little more than a few rooms--at least from the outside. There was a shed and two other buildings that didn’t seem to be residential, but Stiles wasn’t sure what they held.

Arthur jumped out of the truck as soon as it rolled to a halt, and Stiles thought he was anxious to get away from him. Arthur didn’t seem much for conversation, and Stiles could never let a silence stretch for long.

He grabbed Stiles’ bags and set off toward the house. Stiles walked quickly to keep up. When they got inside, Arthur disappeared up the stairs, but Stiles stopped as his name was called.

Stiles recognized Talia easily from the many photos of her smiling at his mother’s side. Her smile was smaller now, more polite than happy as it was in those memories, and she looked poised and dignified as she offered her hand. “I hope your trip was pleasant.”

“It was fine,” Stiles assured her. “Thanks for having me on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Talia said. “John seemed quite concerned. But we won’t discuss that now.” She gestured for him to follow her and started up the stairs. “I’ll show you to your room and let you get settled in.” 

His room was up on the third floor and clearly reserved for infrequent guests, as it lacked any sense of personality. It was nicely decorated and perfectly clean, it just wasn’t homey, or lived in. Arthur had already placed his bags at the end of the bed and disappeared.

“Take all the time you need,” Talia said. “I’ll be downstairs in my study. Once you’ve unpacked, we’ll talk.” She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I hope you feel welcome here.”

After she left, Stiles dropped his carry on with his other bags and flopped onto the bed. He pulled out his phone, but he couldn’t actually use it until he got a local phone plan. He stared up at the ceiling instead, and never felt so lonely in his entire life.

***

Stiles spent the first few days with the Hales getting his footing. Talia had patiently explained that the whole family was homeschooled. On one hand, Stiles was adapting to that well. It was like doing his regular homework, only he didn’t have to waste eight hours in class everyday before he got to it. He could whip through the subjects he was good at, and take his time to understand those he wasn’t. If he struggled with something, he could ask one of the adults, or ask the internet to explain it. 

The biggest change to his education was his time spent with Deaton. The emissary was a veterinarian in town. Three times a week, one of the Hales drove him into the clinic, where he’d spend two hours learning about his spark, how to control it, and eventually, how to wield it. In addition to the time with Deaton, he was assigned books and exercises to do at home. The books were so dry, they were probably the only reason Stiles was getting any sleep, and the exercises made him feel like an idiot, or like he was about to crawl out of his skin with boredom.

Talia had also assigned him chores for the week. She’d briskly explained that everyone contributed to the pack by maintaining the house, and though he was a guest there, he was expected to do his part. He was setting the table on Mondays, assigned cooking dinner with Cora on Wednesdays, and helping Arthur with the yard maintenance on Saturdays.

Apparently the Hales were the type of people who owned dishes they actually used, and dishes that were only kept on display. Stiles, of course, had used the wrong ones, but Talia’s daughter Laura politely explained and helped him reset the table. Wednesday was much more difficult than he’d thought. Stiles knew his way around a kitchen, but Cora had very specific ways of doing things in mind. She didn’t snap at him, but he could tell she thought he was more hindrance than help. Saturday, Arthur kept giving him jobs on the opposite end of the lawn, so Stiles had no one to talk to but himself.

Everyone was perfectly polite, but they were strangers, and Stiles couldn’t help feeling that everything he did was wrong. No one got angry about it, they just smiled stiffly and said things like, “We don’t do things like that.”

Sunday was his day to do whatever he wanted. He spent some time Facetiming with Scott, then had a short conversation with his dad between patrols. He didn’t feel like reading, with Deaton’s books staring at him, reminding him that they should be read first. He had his laptop, but the Hales' internet was pretty slow because they were so deep into the country. The lag made it impossible to play videogames for any length of time. 

It was sunny out, and really starting to look like spring, so Stiles decided to explore outside a little. He pulled on his sneakers and made for the front door.

“Stiles.” He turned to see Emma, Talia’s sister-in-law in the livingroom. “Try not to walk through the house with shoes on, okay? Keeps things cleaner, and isn’t as loud for the werewolves.”

“Not a fan of the sneaker squeak symphony, huh?” Stiles asked. She smiled, but he could tell she didn’t actually think it was funny. He ducked out the front door before he could make any more stupid jokes.

He started out walking around the pools. He still couldn’t figure out any rhyme or reason for its layout, just that it had a few different sections that stretched out farther than the rest. They weren’t at regular intervals, and they wound in random directions before finally reaching their ends well away from each other. Stiles went right up to the edge and dipped his hand in the water. It was clear, but dark, and he couldn't see to the bottom.

He heard sounds coming from one of the outbuildings, and wandered over. He’d been informed that one building was a garage and the other was a workshop, but he didn’t know what was made in it. His wandering had led him behind the workshop, so he came around to the front to see what was going on.

The double doors were wide open to the fresh air, and one of the Hales was standing outside in front of them. He had what looked like the trunk of a tree halved and balanced on two work horses. He was using a sander, but he had a hammer, chisel, and axe in his tool belt.

Stiles hadn’t met this Hale before. There were a lot of them, and he was still struggling to put the right face with it’s name, but he was sure they’d yet to be introduced. Those kind of broad shoulders and sharp cheekbones tended to make an impression. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles asked.

The guy didn’t startle when he spoke, but he did scowl at Stiles, then looked pointedly at the sander in his hand.

“Yeah, well, sanding, obviously. But sanding what?” Stiles pressed, stepping closer to find the tree had sections hollowed out of it.

“Bookshelf,” the guy said. “Or whatever-shelf, I guess.”

“Cool,” Stiles said. “So instead of adding pieces you’re carving the shelves out of the tree itself?”

“Yep.”

“How do you get them flat?”

“Practice and a level.”

“Will you varnish it? Are you leaving the bark on?”

“Why are you here?”

Stiles clicked his mouth shut so he didn’t gape. So far, all the Hales had put up with his questions or disappeared at the first opportunity. Stiles knew a lot of them thought he talked too much, but they weren’t overtly hostile about it. “Why am I here in New York or here talking to you?”

The guy huffed a little but didn’t clarify.

“I’m in New York because my aunt thinks I’m in need of a personality transplant. I’m out here talking to you because I’m in a new place, with none of my friends or family, and I’m really, _really_ bored.” Stiles leaned forward and widened his eyes to emphasize his mental state, then returned upright and offered his hand. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

“I know,” Hale said, ignoring the hand and doubling his sanding efforts. 

“I don’t know who you are,” Stiles pointed out. “Well, I know you’re a Hale, obviously, I mean why else would someone else be out here. Not to mention, you guys all look the same, like, wow, strong genes, huh? The tall, dark, and broody look is working for you though, dude, no question.”

“Don’t--” Hale broke off clearly torn between ignoring Stiles and verbally swatting him away like an annoying fly. “Don’t call me dude.”

“No promises. At the moment, I have nothing else to call you,” Stiles said. He grinned when the guy stopped his sanding to glare at him.

“Derek,” he said finally.

“Nice,” Stiles said. He’d heard the name mentioned before but hadn’t been sure if they’d met. “And where do you fit on the epic Hale family tree?”

“Talia’s first son,” Derek told him.

Stiles nodded and added him into the mental flowchart he’d created to remember the pack and who was connected to whom. He fit nicely next to Laura, and before Cora, Emett, and Tory. “Why haven’t I seen you around the house before?”

“I don’t live in the house,” Derek said. Stiles gasped dramatically and Derek jerked his head at the cabin tucked into the treeline. ‘That’s mine.”

“Is is nice?” Stiles asked.

“It’s quiet.” Derek gave him another pointed look.

“Cool,” Stiles said. There was an empty bucket by the door of the workshop, and he grabbed it, flipped it over and sat down. “At home, it was just me and my dad. He’s the sheriff, right? So he works a lot. I had the place to myself most of the time. It’s pretty different from here. There's always someone around, but they’re all busy doing stuff.” 

“Don’t you have _stuff_ to do?” Derek asked, switching out his sander for the chisel.

“Not really? I don’t have any chores today. I’ve read the chapters Deaton assigned, and the books are too boring to read ahead. I’m already way further in my school work than I need to be, and school on a Sunday is just pathetic.” Stiles trailed off with a shrug.

“What do you usually do on a Sunday?” Derek asked.

“Hang out with Scott,” Stiles said. He gave Derek a great and detailed recount of their friendship, from meeting in kindergarten all the way up to this year. Derek responded in grunts or one word questions, but he didn’t listen politely as his eyes glazed over. 

Without those occasional grunts he might not even be sure he was listening at all, but at the end of Stiles long-winded tale, he asked, “Who’s Lydia?”

“Only the most perfect, brilliant girl ever,” Stiles said, and he was off again, this time telling him about Lydia’s amazing brain, and her perfect looks. Talked a bit about how really talking to her, and then seeing the way her love for Jackson had saved him kinda kicked the crush out of his system. “She’s still amazing, though.”

Derek nodded, then wandered into the workshop. He came back out a moment later and threw a water bottle at Stiles, keeping one for himself. He looked at Stiles, and it felt like he could see through all the bullshit, right to his core.

“I miss them,” Stiles said quietly.

“Of course you do,” Derek said. Like it would be ludicrous for him not to. And Stiles didn’t feel so much like a fish out of water.

***

Stiles went back to the house just before dinner so he could wash up. Most of the pack came together and shared how their day went and what they were up to the next day. Stiles could see the easy affection between them, he just couldn’t feel it himself.

“Stiles, I noticed you were out by the workshop today,” Laura said as she tried to feed her toddler some sweet potatoes.

“Yeah, I went for a walk to explore. Derek was working outside,” Stiles said.

“Oh?” Talia asked with a raised eyebrow and a carefully neutral tone.

“Mmhm,” Stiles stabbed a tomato from his salad. “He was hollowing out a tree for a shelf. It was cool to watch.”

“You stayed for a while, then,” Talia said and Stiles noticed that the rest of the conversations were dropping off.

“Yeah. Most of the afternoon."

“How nice.” Talia set down her utensils. “Stiles, Derek prefers to keep to himself. Meeting strangers can be very stressful for him and he doesn’t live in the main house because he prefers the privacy of his cabin.”

“Okay,” Stiles said slowly. He felt like she was trying to tell him something, but wouldn’t come out and say it.

“Just be sure it give him space, alright?”

“Sure,” Stiles agreed, but he wasn’t really sure what that meant, or why it was needed. Derek had been grumpy, but he hadn’t asked Stiles to leave. He’d been the most genuine about his irritation with Stiles out of anyone in the pack, and it was refreshing. Most of the other Hales put up with him. Derek had thrown a water bottle at him. 

Keeping Talia’s words in mind, Stiles didn’t go out to the workshop for the next three days. Thursday morning’s restlessness got the better of him, and when he saw that the doors were pushed open, he wandered across the lawn. “Hey.”

Derek wasn’t working on the tree anymore. Actually, Stiles wasn’t sure what he was working on, but it involved glue and vice grips. “Come hold this,” Derek said. Stiles put his hands where Derek instructed, holding the wood steady while Derek worked around him.

“Deaton gave me a book that’s marginally less boring than the others,” Stiles told him. “It’s got personal recounts of supernatural creatures instead of just dry theories.”

“What creatures?” Derek asked. So Stiles gave him a summary of the eight chapters he’d read so far, adjusting his hands every so often at Derek’s instruction.

It seemed okay to visit again the next day, and the one after that. Saturday, he went as soon as he finished with Deaton. He’d been there for an hour when Arthur came to collect him, deciding they should start chores early.

He tried to go again on Sunday, but was waylaid every time he went in that direction. He’d never been in such high demand. If he so much as took a step toward Derek, someone showed up and asked him to help them with something in the kitchen, or check out a video they’d seen, or hold a baby. He didn’t have a minute until it was already starting to get dark out. He perched on his windowsill and turned his head up to feel the spring breeze coming through. With it came the sounds of water lapping. He was growing used to the noises of the pools rippling with wind, but this was different. Opening his eyes, he could see someone making steady laps through the maze of water.

He hadn’t seen anyone swim there before, hadn’t even realized they were allowed. He didn’t hesitate when he felt the urge to go down there. He made it down the stairs and nearly to the door when Laura caught up with him.

“Hey, Stiles, did you want to--?”

“Are you trying to keep me from going outside?” Stiles asked.

Laura blinked at him. “No, of course not,” she said, a little too quickly after the pause.

“Okay,” Stiles said. “I’ll see you later then.” He dashed out the door without giving her a chance to reply. He sat down at the edge of the pool and watched the swimmer navigate through the paths, methodical strokes pushing the water aside. He wasn’t all that surprised when they finally got close and he could see it was Derek. “Hi,” he said as Derek gripped the wall next to him and wiped water out of his eyes.

“What are you doing out here?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “I wasn’t tired, and I saw you swimming. I didn’t know we were allowed.”

“It's allowed, but most of us don’t,” Derek said.

Stiles nodded. “Hey, why’s it laid out like this? It makes no sense.”

Derek turned around looking out at the pools instead of at Stiles. “This used to be our house.”

Stiles looked out at the water. “I’m gonna need a bit more than that.”

“That house,” Derek said, jerking his thumb at the main house, “was only built six years ago. This one was here for generations. But then...well, now it’s gone. Mom wanted something to serve as a memory of it, so she had the foundation converted into these.”

“Weird,” Stiles said. He could now pick out where different rooms and walls would be. “What about the paths that stretch out?”

“They were escape tunnels. They didn’t work.” Derek looked a bit distant then he shook off the thought, pushing away from the wall. “Come swim with me.”

“I don’t have my swimsuit,” Stiles said, but the clear water looked very, very tempting.

“All your clothes are inside, just wear your boxers,” Derek said. “How are you in deep water?”

Stiles snorted. “I’m from California. I can swim in anything.” He stripped off his shirt dropping it in a heap on the grass, pants following soon after. “How deep are we talking?”

“Cora likes to bring scuba gear out.” Derek said. 

“Great.” Stiles gave himself a running start and cannon balled into the pool. He plunged in deep, then open his eyes, waiting for them to adjust and look through the bubbles. There was something calming about being underwater. Everything was quiet, slow, and blurry. Like he could be the only person in the world.

He kicked hard and propelled himself to the surface. Derek was wiping the water Stiles had splashed at him out of his eyes and glaring at him.

“I’m the Beacon Hills Cannonball King,” Stiles said with a smirk.

“Against who? Ten year olds?”

Stiles gave an affronted huff and splashed him again. Derek ducked underwater to avoid the wave, and didn’t come back up. A moment later, there was a strong grip on his ankle and he was pulled underwater.

Derek released him immediately and they both returned to the surface, Derek a few feet farther out than he’d been before.

“Oh, it’s on now,” Stiles said, propelling himself forward after him. It escalated from there, swimming, splashing, chasing, ducking under the water, or rounding a wall, following a path to nowhere.

It was well and truly dark and Stiles’ teeth were chattering when they finally pulled themselves out of the pools. His limbs felt pleasantly heavy from the exertion of pushing through the water, and his legs would have a satisfying sore feeling tomorrow.

“Come with me,” Derek said wrapping his towel around his shoulders. “Mom won’t like you dripping through the house. I’ll grab you a towel.” 

Stiles followed Derek to the cabin, trying not to shiver too hard. Derek held the door open for him then left him standing just inside. 

The cabin was one large room, with a kitchen in one corner, TV and couch in another. Against the far wall was a massive bed, perfectly made with the kind of fluffy duvet Stiles loved to flop onto and curl up in. There was one door at the side that Stiles assumed led to the bathroom, especially when Derek returned from there with a towel in hand. 

Stiles gave himself a cursory wipe then wrapped the towel around his shoulders. “Do you do that often?” Derek quirked an eyebrow in his direction. “The swimming. It was fun.”

Derek shrugged. “When the mood strikes me. Sometimes more often than others. You’ll have to come out with me again.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Stiles warned him, then his jaw cracked with a forceful yawn. The clock on the wall said it wasn’t too late, but they’d been swimming for two hours.

Derek snorted. “Goodnight, Stiles.”

“Night, Derek,” he said, letting himself out of the cabin. He grabbed his pile of clothes on the way by and crept as quietly as he could into the house. It didn’t really do much good because, well, werewolves. Talia came out of the kitchen with a mug of tea in her hands.

“Did you have a good time?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was nice,” he said. “Derek said I could come out with him again sometime.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose. “Did he?”

“Yep.” Stiles gave a jerky shrug. “Gave me a towel too, so your floors stay dry.”

“Brought it out to you?”

“No, we went to the cabin before I came back here,” Stiles told her. “Why?”

Talia stared at him for a long time. “It’s nothing, Stiles, have a good night.” She walked around him and let herself out the door he’d come in.

Stiles climbed the stairs to his room, hoping he hadn’t gotten Derek in trouble somehow. He also hoped that his tiredness would last and he’d be able to fall right asleep. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that was too much to ask.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles was having trouble focusing on the exercises Deaton had given him. He understood them well enough in theory, but in practice, he couldn’t block out all the distractions around him enough to clear his mind and execute them properly. It was frustrating, and boring, and he was ready to give up. 

After what felt like his hundredth attempt, he slammed the book shut and paced to his window. A quick look outside showed the workshop doors wide open, so he grabbed the stupid book off the bed and went downstairs with it.

“Don’t you have homework?” Emma called.

“Yep, gonna do it outside." He was already closing the door behind him, then he sprinted across the lawn and knocked on the open door. “Hey.”

Derek set down the saw he was using. “Done with school already?”

“Done and ahead of the game,” Stiles told him. “I’m just working on some of Deaton’s tasks.” He pushed himself up onto an empty work counter and crossed his legs underneath him. “So I decided we could keep each other company.”

“Did you, now?” Derek’s tone was unamused, but there was a pleased glint in his eyes.

“Mmhm, it’s your lucky day.” Stiles opened the book in his lap, and started the exercise, breathing in deeply, holding, then exhaling, all for even counts of six. He closed his eyes, but could hear when Derek resumed his own work. He focused on those sounds, the rasp of Derek’s jeans against the workbench, the scrape of metal on wood, the sweep of Derek’s hand pushing sawdust out of his way.

He emptied everything from his mind except those sounds, and when only they remained, he moved on to the next step, losing himself in the process.

“Stiles?” Derek said, and the focus was broken.

“Shit,” Stiles said. “I was close that time.”

Derek looked at him side-eyed. “How long do you think you were doing that?”

Stiles shrugged. “A few minutes?”

Derek shook his head. “It’s been over two hours. It’s almost lunch time.”

“Really?” Stiles asked. “No way.” He untucked his legs and groaned. “Oh shit, it must be, my legs are dead.”

Derek huffed out a laugh and offered his hand so Stiles could hop off the counter and not fall over. He laughed a little more as Stiles cursed and moaned as the feeling came back to his lower half.

Stiles started making a habit of doing his work for Deaton out in the workshop, even when he was just reading. He used the sounds around him as an anchoring point, and when he got bored and needed a break he could stop and talk to Derek.

Sometimes they were joined by other pack members, usually Arthur, or Derek’s uncle Frank and cousin Henry. Derek favoured solo projects but occasionally needed a second pair of hands. Sometimes those hands were Stiles’.

The Hale pack didn’t try stop him anymore, and were even starting to give him a pleasant wave as he went out.

Stiles had been with them for a couple months, and he was having one of those days where his homesickness felt like a physical ache. Video chats just weren’t the same, and he’d give anything for a hug from his dad.

“Hey,” Derek said, nudging him with his foot. “Do you want to come over?”

“Over?” Stiles echoed.

“To my cabin,” Derek said. “You could come by after dinner and we’ll watch a movie or something.”

Stiles nodded eagerly, excited at the prospect of not spending another evening alone in his room, staring at the ceiling, wishing for sleep.

He mentioned at dinner that he was going over to Derek’s that night, and Aunt Emma gave him half a pie to take over for dinner. “Derek always misses out on dessert,” she said with a wink.

Stiles was standing at the door, trying to juggle the pie into one hand to knock when Derek opened it. “Pie?”

Stiles laughed at his expression. It was the most subdued version of eager he’d ever seen. “Aunt Emma sent it over. You have to share with me though, I haven’t had any yet.”

“Fine,” Derek said, taking the covered dish and leaving Stiles to follow after him. “Go pick a movie.”

“You don’t have something in mind?” Stiles said. He went over to the shelves next to Derek’s tv and started scanning the small selection.

“If I own it, I’ll watch it,” Derek countered. Stiles made a quick selection and put it into the DVD player before collapsing onto the couch. Derek joined him shortly after, handing him a plate of pie and a fork and keeping the rest of the dish for himself. By the time they were through the opening credits, Stiles was stealing bites from Derek, who growled and threatened to stab him with his fork, but didn't actually stop him.

When the pie was finished and the dishes abandoned to the coffee table, Stiles settled into the couch and spouted facts he knew about scenes from the movie. He didn’t remember falling asleep, didn’t really even remember curling up with his feet on the couch. 

Stiles woke up feeling more rested than he had in weeks. The sun warmed his face and burned a few layers off his retinas when he blinked open his eyes. He stretched with a groan, then yelped when Derek suddenly asked, “Are you hungry?”

Stiles at up on the couch and looked around until he found Derek leaning against the kitchen counter. “I could eat.”

“Come on.” Derek walked over to the door and tossed Stiles his shoes. They made their way over to the house, where the kitchen was already abuzz with activity. Derek went up behind his aunt and hugged her. “Have enough for one more?”

“Always,” Aunt Emma assured him. She handed him a plate piled with bacon and sent him toward the table. 

Derek took a seat next to his brother Eugene, and Stiles took the one across from him. 

“Derek, did you see my math test?” Eugene asked.

“Everyone’s seen your math test,” Cora said. Her dark hair was sticking up at all angles, and her eyes were barely open.

“Which test?” Derek asked.

“The one I got perfect on,” Eugene told him.

“No I haven’t, nice job, Flynn,” Derek said.

“Flynn?” Stiles echoed. Derek winked at him, and Eugene rolled his eyes, and started reciting his scores on his last five math tests. Stiles quizzed him on his times tables. He liked watching Eugene squirm with excitement at each correct answer, and the corner of Derek’s mouth had a distinct upward tilt.

The table was quickly filling with food and people, and Stiles noticed the surprise and pleasure on their faces when they saw Derek. When Talia walked in, Stiles gave her his full attention. He loved watching her walk through the pack. She always made some sort of contact with every member. A word, a hug, a ruffle of hair, something to show she noticed them. For Derek, she pulled him up to stand before hugging him, saying softly, “I’m glad you're here,” before letting him return to his food.

As much as Stiles loved watching her, it always hurt a bit. She usually sent him a polite smile, but it wasn’t the same. No one cared if he was here. Today through, she rounded the table and brushed his shoulder on the way by.

Derek noticed Stiles’ look of confusion and raised an eyebrow. Stiles just shrugged in return. He wasn’t going to explain it there at the table, so he changed the subject.

“Why wouldn’t you be here?” 

A hush went over the group. Talia cleared her throat. “Derek hasn’t really joined the whole family for anything other than holidays since...Well, for a very long time.”

“It’s okay, Mom, I want him to know,” Derek said. “When I was around your age, I met someone I thought cared about me. Instead, they used me to try and murder my family.”

“Derek,” Talia said stiffly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know,” Derek said. “But it’s hard not to worry I’ll put you all in danger again. When my family is all together, sometimes it feels like I’m choking on smoke again.”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “The old house.”

“Yep,” Derek said grimly. “Kate tried to burn it to the ground with all of us inside.” 

“And the tunnels?” Stiles asked.

“Blocked off with mountain ash,” Derek said. “A hiker got lost and saw the smoke. He called the fire department. If they’d been any longer--”

“But they weren’t,” Talia said forcefully. “And we’re glad to have you here.”

Derek looked like he wanted to press the issue, but was forced to let it go when Laura came in and jumped on his lap, attacking him with kisses then stealing his bacon.

*** 

Stiles was spending almost all his free time and a lot of his not-so-free time, with Derek. The Hales weren’t so wary of him anymore, but he still felt like a guest. Like they were all just waiting for him to leave, himself included.

Derek's project this week was a cradle someone had commissioned. All that was left were the details, and Stiles watched entranced as Derek traced swirls into the wood, slowly forming a pretty picture .

“I think Deaton’s angry with me,” Stiles blurted out. He’d been mulling it over since he’d left his lesson, flashes of Deaton’s disapproving frown rattling in his brain. “I read three books on astrology this week, and I still can’t tell one star from another when I look at the sky.”

“You think that made him angry?” Derek asked.

“I don’t _know_ ,” Stiles grumbled. “He’s angry about something, I can tell because he gets this pinched look on his face and he sighs, and starts talking about focus and patience. He clearly thinks I’m a horrible student and I’m not doing it right, but he won’t tell me. I wish he would just lose his temper for once, then we can move on."

“You want him to yell at you?” Stiles hated when Derek looked at him like that. Like he was seeing all too much.

“I don’t know,” Stiles said. “Maybe.” He kept feeling like if someone would just get fed up and shout at him, then he could apologize and start fixing it. “I fucked up, Derek.”

“With Deaton?”

“With everything,” Stiles said. “I fucked it all up and I didn’t have time to fix it.” His hands were shaking and his throat felt too tight.

“You will.” Derek abandoned the cradle to sit next to Stiles on the bench. He put his hand over Stiles’ to steady it. 

Stiles had always hated silence. Until he met Derek, he didn’t realize how much it could say.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles loved going to Derek's cabin. It was easier for him to really relax and be himself there, more so than the bedroom he’d been given, even with the photos and posters his dad had sent him. And if he happened to fall asleep while he was there, Derek never seemed to mind. 

Stiles woke up on Derek’s couch, groaning as he cracked his back and stretched out his stiff neck. He blinked, and realized it was still dark out. Usually he slept all the way until morning here, but Derek was standing over him, and that was probably why he was awake. 

“You shouldn’t sleep on the couch so much,” Derek said.

“Oh.” Stiles pushed up into a sitting position, shoulders curling in discomfort. He should have known Derek would get sick of him eventually.

“I didn’t say it bothered me.” Derek nudged Stiles’ calf with his foot. “You’ll mess up your back sleeping there.”

“I know,” Stiles said. “It’s not that bad.”

Derek was quiet for a moment, then he said, “Come sleep in my bed instead.”

“With you?” Stiles asked, looking over at the large bed in the corner, blankets already rumpled and inviting.

“Well, I’m sure as hell not sleeping on the couch.” Derek shrugged as he walked over and got into bed. “It’s up to you.”

Stiles hesitated for a moment, thinking it over. The couch was comfortable enough for hanging out or a quick nap, but it really wasn’t great for sleeping on as often as he was. However… Derek was really hot. He had a body like a god, his quick wit kept Stiles on his toes, and his affection with his family made Stiles’ heart get up and do a jig. 

He'd been keeping his feelings for Derek in check, but there was no telling what his subconscious would get up to when he was not actually conscious. And the chances of him waking up without a boner were slim to none.

“Derek?”

“Hmm?”

“We're friends, right?” Stiles asked.

Derek rolled over and looked at him like he was spouting archaic latin. “Of course.”

Stiles swallowed and picked at his thumb nail. “Do you think there's a chance we could be more than that?”

Derek sat up with a sigh. “Short answer? Yes. Actual answer… I don’t think now is the right time for that. I don’t want to take advantage you.”

“You wouldn’t--” Stiles started.

“I wouldn’t mean to,” Derek insisted. “But it’s not that simple. Your whole support system is on the other side of the country, and you haven’t settled in enough to build a new one here yet. I can’t be the only person in your life, it’s not good for either of us.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. He almost wished he hadn’t asked, but maybe it was best for Derek to put him out of his misery.

“Also, you're sixteen, and I’m not. Once you’re mine, I’m not sure I’ll ever want to let go,” Derek said. 

Silence stretched between them, until Stiles said in a rush, “Cuddling isn’t illegal.”

Derek made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh, a sigh, and a groan. “Come here then.”

Stiles scampered off the couch and into the bed, settling himself against Derek’s side. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah.” Derek’s thumb traced circles over the skin on his hip. “Stiles, if we're doing this, we’re doing it slowly okay? I’m serious about your age. We’re not blurring any lines, or pretending something doesn’t count just because we want it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said. “I won’t push you.”

Derek snorted. “You always push me. Just not like that.”

***

Taking Derek’s words to heart, Stiles set out to establish a friendship outside of the one they had. His first attempt was watching Tangled with Eugene. That had been fun, and he’d probably do it again sometime, but Eugene was ten. Not exactly someone he could talk meaningfully about his sort-of-boyfriend with.

He tried Cora next since they were fairly close in age. They baked a damn good cake together, but even a mild reference to how hot Derek was had her fake gagging. Entertaining, but not really what he was looking for. 

He worked his way though a few more Hale cousins, but he didn’t really click with any of them. He felt closer to the family in general now, less like an outsider looking in. He just didn’t have the kind of friendship he was looking for. Stiles had to admit to himself that what he wanted was Scott. In the flesh, not over a computer screen. He never felt like there was enough privacy to tell Scott honestly about what was happening in this life. Werewolf hearing made privacy a laughable illusion.

In the end, it wasn’t Stiles who found him a friend, it was Talia.

The entire pack was gathered into the living room, under the ominous summons of a “family meeting”. Stiles didn’t really know why he was there when he wasn’t family, but he was pressed against Derek on the couch, so he wasn’t complaining. (Except that had Laura squishing into his other side, so he actually was complaining a bit.)

“I feel that with the current stability of the pack, it’s time to take in a new member or two,” Talia explained. “We have some people in mind that we think would fit well within our pack, and would benefit greatly from the bite.”

“How soon are we talking here?” Cora asked.

“Within the next week or so,” Talia asked. “Our candidates are in highschool of course, so if we give them the bite now, they’ll have the whole summer to establish their control, or join us for private studies.”

“Of course?” Stiles whispered to Derek.

Laura answered him instead. “Younger people tend to respond better to the bite, and are less likely to reject it. We avoid biting children for consent reasons, so teenagers it is.”

“Who are you offering the bite to?” Peter asked.

“Isaac Lahey,” Talia said. “His father is...well, he’d do better with the support and protection of the pack.”

There were murmurs of agreement through the group that Stiles didn’t understand. He raised a questioning brow to Laura. “We can all smell the pain, even if we can’t see the bruises. Mr. Lahey is not a good man.”

“The second person I’d like to bring in is Erica Reyes,” Talia said. There was no flurry of recognition at this name. “Abby has met her several times over the years.”

Aunt Abby worked at the local hospital as a nurse. If she’d had frequent contact with a teenager, it was more than likely through that.

“Does anyone have any concerns before we move forward with inviting them to meet the family?” Talia asked.

There was a lengthy discussion on whether now really was the right time to add to their pack, what attention it could bring from hunters, and if these choices were indeed the right fit. They ended the meeting with the decision that they could at least have them over for dinner and go from there.

Stiles was at Derek’s cabin when Derek got the text saying, _they’re coming over tonight and so are you._ Stiles laughed out loud at the distasteful look on Derek’s face.

“I don’t do well with people,” Derek muttered.

“These aren’t people, they’re your pack,” Stiles said. “Mostly.”

Derek resisted every step of the way, so they were nearly late for dinner. They were quickly ushered toward the table and Stiles found himself seated across from Erica. She radiated _DO NOT WANT TO BE HERE_ even more than Derek. She was practically hiding in her hair, and she wasn’t meeting anyone's eyes. She was also wearing a Batman T-shirt.

“DC, huh? Batgirl or Supergirl?” Stiles asked.

Erica stared at him for a moment, wide eyed, and Stiles worried that she’d just liked the logo and had no idea what he was talking about. Then she said, “Wonder Woman, obviously.”

A grin split Stiles’ face, and they were off, talking about their favourite reboots, and the deplorable lack of movies centered around female superheros. He briefly worried that he was monopolizing Erica’s attention, but there were others interjecting when they felt the need, and Talia was looking at him like she approved. 

Later in the week, Stiles was in attendance for Erica’s _holy shit werewolves are real_ moment. He didn’t get to be there when she was given the bite, but he did hang out with her a few days later, marathoning Batman movies. 

Erica told him about her epilepsy, and the public ridicule she’d faced. After taking the bite, she didn’t have to worry about that, so her confidence was skyrocketing. It gave her the boost she needed to finally ask out her crush, Boyd. Stiles didn’t feel weird talking about his non-relationship with Derek, since she would talk about her own blooming romance.

School was out, so there was no homework to be done, but Deaton had doubled Stiles’ lessons. Sometimes Erica, Isaac, and even occasionally Boyd, would come and sit with him while he worked on it out in Derek’s workshop. Derek never said anything about them invading his space.

Boyd was taking an interest in Derek’s woodworking. They were both men of few words, and Stiles liked watching Derek show him how to do something, using as few words as possible. After a couple weeks, Talia decided if she was going to train two new wolves, she might as well train a third, and offered Boyd a place in the pack as well.

Isaac was a bit skittish at first. Stiles got the impression he was waiting for it all to come crashing down, like there must be some sort of catch. Once he found his anchor, he started to relax. Stiles got along much better with him when he didn’t feel like he was walking on eggshells. If Stiles was being an asshole, Isaac could, and would, dish it right back.

By the end of the summer, Stiles was barely spending any time up in his own room. All his pictures, posters, and knickknacks had slowly moved over to the cabin. Half his clothes were there, and Derek had built him a desk to permanently house his laptop and books.

A lot of people would probably find it strange to be essentially living with someone before ever doing more than make out, but it worked for them. In fact, it worked really, really well.


	4. Chapter 4

The air outside was crisp and cool, while the cabin felt warm and close, like a hug from a good friend, comfortable without being cloying. Stiles traced patterns on Derek’s chest. They were technically watching a movie, but Stiles had stopped paying attention around the time he’d put his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m excited to see Scott,” Stiles said. “And Lydia obviously.”

“Of course.”

“And I’ll see my dad a bit. Hopefully, if he’s not working too much.”

“Right.”

Stiles pressed his face into Derek’s skin. He always found the smooth expanse such a contrast to Derek’s personality. He liked to tease Derek about being a werehedgehog, instead of a werewolf, prickly exterior and marshmallow middle. “Why don’t I want to go?” he mumbled.

Derek tightened his arms around Stiles. “I’ll miss you.”

“The place to yourself, no one asking you questions, and forcing you to entertain them.” Stiles snorted. “Not likely.”

“Empty bed, empty house, empty silence,” Derek said, nudging Stiles up to look at him. “I like my life better with you in it.”

Funny how words were so hard to find when it was something important. It seemed like in the months he’d been here, out of all the things he’d learned, the thing that stuck was that you could talk and talk and talk and never say anything at all. Sometimes, there just weren’t any words. He kissed Derek instead, deep and slow.

“Just a week, right?” Stiles said.

“A matter of days really,” Derek agreed. 

The next morning Stiles got on a plane. He couldn’t decide if he was going home or leaving it.

***

Sheriff Stilinski’s home had been far too quiet for much too long. Ever since he’d sent Stiles to stay with the Hales, there was a hush over the house. The rooms were always empty, the windows were dark, and John avoided coming home for as long as possible. He’d been pulling so many doubles, his deputies were more than happy to let him work the bare minimum for Thanksgiving. They were even making noises about him taking a Christmas holiday. 

With Stiles gone, the house was too empty. So with Stiles finally back, why did it still echo like a tomb?

“Kiddo?” The jeep was still in the driveway, so he should be home. Unless he was out visiting Scott again. 

“Hey,” Stiles said, popping his head out from the kitchen.

“I wasn’t sure you were home,” the Sheriff said, because he couldn’t think of anything else.

Stiles shrugged. “Scott has a date with Allison, so I thought I’d get a head start on the cooking for tomorrow.”

“Need a hand?” The Sheriff asked. 

“I got it. Go ahead and get some rest.” Stiles disappeared into the kitchen, leaving his dad to stare after him. This wasn’t like his son at all. Stiles and quiet were not things that went together. He’d never been subdued and contained before. Stiles was all fast movements, streams of words, and clumsy collisions. 

He followed Stiles into the kitchen with an uneasy feeling in his gut. They talked as Stiles cooked, and sometimes the Sheriff would see glimpses of Stiles’ full personality, when he got excited about something or distracted, then he’d grimace apologetically and go quiet again. 

Scott and Melissa came over the next day, and the Sheriff’s knot of unease loosened watching the boys talk. Stiles still teased Scott like he used to, and they nearly broke a lamp wrestling over some random point.

Then Aunt Marcia arrived, and his Stiles disappeared again.

“How are your studies going?” Marcia asked him at the dinner table.

“Fine,” Stiles said, his face, usually so animated remained blank.

“Only fine?” Marcia prodded.

“Yes. Fine,” Stiles said. The Sheriff didn’t understand his reticence. Only hours earlier he’d been excitedly showing Scott how he’d learned to levitate the coffee table.

“I was thinking maybe you could come home soon, finish your studies here,” the sheriff said. He’d almost brought Stiles home a hundred times since he’d sent him away, but he stopped himself because Marcia had assured him this was best for Stiles. Now, seeing this shadow of his son, he wasn't so sure.

Stiles dropped his fork with a clatter staring at him wide eyed.

Marcia gave a tisk and a sigh. “I suppose I could look into my connections and find another teacher, but--”

“You can’t do that,” Stiles said.

“Stiles?” Scott asked.

“You can’t just decide on a whim to move me across the country, not again,” Stiles insisted, breath quickening.

“Stiles, don’t you want to come home?” The Sheriff asked. “I just want what’s best for you--”

“Aren’t I doing what you wanted?” Stiles spat. “I’m focusing, aren’t I? I didn’t bother you while I was here, and I didn’t wake you up, didn’t get into any trouble. You can’t punish me when I’m trying!”

“Stiles, I’m not--” he started.

“You can’t do this, not again! I have to go back!” Stiles hands were shaking and the pictures on the wall where starting to rattle.

“Stiles, come on.” Scott jumped up from the table, grabbing Stiles arm and pulling him out of the room.

“Well, clearly he’s still not in control of his abilities,” Marcia said. “I don’t know what the Hales' emissary is teaching him, but clearly it’s not enough.”

“Marcia, shut the hell up,” the Sheriff snapped.

“I beg your pardon.” Marcia stared at him with an icy glare.

“I think you’ve had more than enough input on what I do with my son, and I’m done,” the Sheriff said. “I never should have sent him away in the first place.”

“I was thinking of what’s best for my nephew,” she sputtered.

“And I should have been thinking of what’s best for my _son_ ,” the Sheriff countered, then sighed, all the fight draining out of him. “Claudia would be so ashamed of me for this.”

“You think I don’t know how my own sister would have wanted her child raised?” Marcia spat.

“Enough,” Melissa said. “Don’t make the night worse by fighting over ghosts.” She managed to usher Marcia out the door, and started clearing the table. “You should go check on them.” 

The Sheriff nodded, he put a hand on her shoulder as he went past, trying to convey his thanks but unable to put it into words. He trudged up the stairs softly, and the boys conversation started to flow toward him.

“Don’t you want to come back home?” Scott asked.

“Of course I do,” Stiles said. “Just not yet. I can’t-- I’m not ready.”

“Because of your magic training?”

“Partly,” Stiles agreed. “It's just-- I focus better there. On everything. Once I can focus enough without that, I’ll come home or...maybe I’ll bring the focus with me.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Scott said, and the Sheriff agreed.

“I know,” Stiles said. “I miss you all, really I do, but the thought of never going back makes my heart feel like it’s ripping in half.”

The Sheriff felt like his own heart was breaking as he tapped on the door. Scott answered and stepped aside so he could address Stiles. “If you aren’t ready to come home that’s your choice. Just as long as you know you’re welcome here.”

“Okay,” Stiles agreed.

The Sheriff hesitated at the door. “Stiles, I didn’t send you away because I wanted you to change, Not really, not changing _you_. I just thought you needed help to find some control. There was never anything wrong with you.”

Stiles nodded, too many times for it to be natural. “I’m sorry,” He blurted out.

“Oh, kiddo, you have nothing to be sorry for,” the Sheriff said, then he finally had his son back in his arms.

Unfortunately, he didn’t stay there for long.

***

Too many people traveled during the holidays, and the cheapest flight Stiles could get didn’t land until after midnight. Arthur said a gruff hello. 

“I’m gonna sleep the whole way home," Stiles said, "My christmas gift to you.” He was rewarded with a wheeze that passed for a laugh. 

He bypassed the main house completely when he got home, heading straight for the cabin. Derek sat up in bed as Stiles opened the door and dropped his bag. Derek put a steadying hand on his hip while Stiles crawled into his lap.

“Did I wake you?”

“I was waiting up,” Derek assured him. “Did you have a good time?”

“I haven’t decided,” Stiles pressed his face into Derek’s neck. “Missed you.”

“Me too.”

“Dad wanted me to stay.” Stiles felt Derek stiffen beneath him. “I got upset, which doesn’t make sense. I mean, I never wanted to leave in the first place. I should have been ecstatic, but all I could think about was you. Everything we haven’t done yet, everything I’ve been waiting for, all the things we do already. The stupidest things, like here’s my _Dad_ saying he wants me to come home and I’m thinking who’s going to wake Derek up for Sunday breakfasts?” 

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice strangled with emotion and amusement.

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles said. “I never want to leave you.”

“Then you won’t,” Derek said. “We’ll figure it out.”

Quiet stretched out between them, and silence was filled with the sigh of the cabin settling, the call of a night owl, the buzz of a frog by the water.

“You know, this is the part where most couples would have passionate sex to reaffirm their emotional confession,” Stiles pointed out.

“Yup,” Derek said. “But we won’t.” Instead he pushed Stiles off of his lap and laughed as Stiles cursed him from the floor.


	5. Chapter 5

The Beacon Hills Deputies had their way, and the Sheriff got a full two weeks off for Christmas. Considering the drama of Thanksgiving, he decided it might be better if he went to Stiles, instead of bringing him home. Melissa agreed to let Scott accompany him, and somehow they got the idea to surprise Stiles. It felt a bit strange to lie to him, but Scott assured him he’d be thrilled to see them. 

Talia’s oldest daughter Laura came to get them from the airport, and they made stiff conversation on the way to the Hale homestead. “Stiles doesn’t suspect anything does he?”

Laura shook her head. “He’s completely oblivious, it will be great.”

When they arrived, the Sheriff stepped out and took in the place, wondering what his son saw, if the sight of a towering house made him happy, if the still water made him feel calm.

Laura and Scott grabbed the bags from the car, and carried them inside.

“Where is Stiles now?” Scott asked.

“Around, I’m sure,” Laura said. “School's out, so everyone’s schedule is a bit erratic. He’ll come in soon. Why don’t I show you your rooms while we wait?”

Scott and the Sheriff followed her up the many stairs to two guest rooms. After dropping the bags, Scott sniffed the air. “Hey, is this Stiles’ room?” he asked, approaching the door across the hall.

“Oh, yeah, it is,” Laura said, glancing over. 

Scott was already opening the door and stepping in, so the Sheriff followed him. He expected to be greeted with the clutter and chaos that occupied Stiles’ room at home, but the room was neat as a pin. “Where are all Stiles’ things? His pictures, his computer?”

“His scent is almost stale,” Scott said. “Like he’s barely in here.”

Laura hesitated in the doorway, not answering. “Where is my son?” the Sheriff asked, panic starting to build. “Why isn’t he here?”

“I’m sure he’ll come in soon, it’s almost dinner time,” Laura said, holding up a placating hand.

“Why isn’t he here now?” Scott asked.

Laura shrugged. “He likes to spend his time at the cabin, but he always has dinner with us.”

“The cabin?” The Sheriff said, already starting down the stairs with Scott hot on his heels. “The cabin at the edge of the trees, isolated from everything?” He couldn’t imagine his son purposefully setting himself away from everyone else. 

Laura didn’t follow them right away, but she caught up to them quickly enough when they were halfway across the grass. “You’re overreacting. Come back to the house and Stiles will join us soon. I thought you wanted to surprise him? A _nice_ surprise.”

“I want to see my son,” the Sheriff said.

“Derek doesn’t like people in his cabin,” Laura insisted grabbing for his arm, but Scott was already wrenching the door open.

Sun streamed in through the windows and the Sheriff tried to absorb everything at once. He saw the pictures that had been missing from his son’s walls, hung up like they belonged. His computer was there on the desk, books spread out around it like they were waiting for his return. Every corner held signs of Stiles. Including the bed in the corner, where one side held Stiles’ clock, and the book he’d been telling him about over the phone. The Sheriff’s vision went red, as he watched Stiles climb out of that bed, rubbing sleep and confusion from his eyes. 

And more to the point, leaving behind a man that was just waking up as well.

“What the hell is this?” The Sheriff shouted.

“Dad?” Stiles gaped at him while the man-- Laura had said something about Derek-- pushed out of bed behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Surprise?” Scott said, with a sheepish look.

“Yes, quite a surprise to find my underage son in bed with a grown man,” the Sheriff ground out.

“No, shit, we were just talking a nap, I swear,” Stiles told him.

“A nap?” The Sheriff said incredulously. “In his bed? Stiles, all of your things are here, your room at the house is virtually empty.”

“I just...like it better over here,” Stiles said. The Sheriff pinned him with a look and Stiles made a frustrated noise. “I like it here with Derek, but he hasn't done anything for you to be angry about.”

“You don’t think I have reason to be angry? Stiles you’re underage,” the Sheriff said.

“And this is New York,” Talia said behind him. “The age of consent is 17. In another two weeks that won’t be an issue.”

“I trusted you with my son,” the Sheriff said, advancing on her.

“And I have cared for him as best I can.” Talia insisted. “I assumed you wanted him to be happy, like I want Derek to be happy. For them, that means being here together. If you had the senses that we do, you’d know they haven’t done anything.”

“You expect me to believe they’ve been living here together, and they aren’t--” He choked on the words because there were some things he just didn't want to say about his son.

“If you don’t believe me, ask Scott, ask my children, look at your son,” Talia said arm flung toward him. “Can you not trust his word on something this important?”

The Sheriff looked back at Stiles. He’d wrapped himself around Derek, eyes wide. Eyes that looked so much like his mother’s. “Stiles.”

“Dad, please, I promise, we decided to wait when this whole thing started,” Stiles assured him. 

“When did it start?” the Sheriff asked.

“When did I get here?” Stiles countered. “If we can hold on for this long, we can handle two more weeks.”

The Sheriff knew his son well enough to know when he was lying, even if he didn’t always know what to do about it, and Stiles was speaking the truth. Or at least what he considered the truth, so he turned to Derek. “You look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t taken advantage of my boy.”

Derek physically recoiled at his words. “I didn’t, I wouldn’t. I could never hurt him like that.”

“If you knew anything about Derek’s past, you’d know how important it is to him that Stiles wasn’t exploited in any way,” Talia told him. There were pointed looks at the pools outside that meant nothing to the Sheriff. “Come back to the house, Mr. Stilinski. We’ll all sit down with some eggnog, and pretend you didn’t barge into my territory and accuse my son of statutory rape.” She turned on her heel and left without another word. 

The Sheriff knew he needed to follow, that he shouldn’t have lost his temper like that. But Stiles wasn’t going with them. He was completely focused on Derek, talking quickly and quietly while Derek stared at the floor.

“Sheriff?” Scott hesitated at the door, looking at him for how to proceed. The Sheriff took a deep breath and followed Talia out.

*** 

“Derek, please don’t shut me out,” Stiles begged. “We can get through this, we’ve already gotten this far.”

“We should never have started in the first place,” Derek said numbly. “I should have just left you alone.”

“No, Derek, I needed you,” Stiles insisted. “Come on, you idiot, don’t you know how lonely I was? Even before I came here. Then I met you and everything came into focus.”

“You’d have managed without me,” Derek said. “If I’d kept my distance and given you time--”

“But I didn’t want you to keep your distance, dammit, Derek, I’m the one who came to see you.” Stiles grabbed Derek by the shoulders and shook. “I made this choice. I want to be with you. Then, now, always.”

“You can’t know that, you’re too young--”

“I know, Derek, I can feel it in my bones.” Stiles let go, because he needed Derek to accept this on his own. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I _know_ that we’re meant to be together. Don’t you?”

Derek stared at him for a moment, and Stiles was terrified that he’d say he didn’t see it that way. “You make my life better. But if I don’t do the same for you--”

“You do!”

“But if I ever _don’t_ I want you to tell me. I don’t want to hold you back.” Derek reached out, tugging Stiles toward him. Stiles went willingly into his arms. “I’m sorry for upsetting your dad.”

“It’s not your fault, we didn’t even know he was coming,” Stiles said. “We weren’t doing anything wrong.” He paused for a second and then added, “Well, except for you napping in jeans. That’s a crime against nature.”

Derek shoved him away and said, “Put some pants on and thank your lucky stars I wasn’t in my boxers for that ordeal.”

***

Dinner was a tense and awkward affair. Stiles wasn’t sure how all the Hales knew what had happened, but he was certain they did. Only the children were out of the loop, and they were picking up on the tension of the adults. No one seemed to know how to break the ice, and Stiles felt guilty. If it went on much longer, it could ruin their holiday. He tried to remind himself that he hadn’t asked his dad to come there, but it didn’t really help.

When the plates were finally cleared, most of the family dispersed. Talia stuck close to Derek as they made their way to the living room. Stiles expected the newest betas to hightail it home as soon as they could, but Erica joined the group, her head held high like she was demanding to be included, and the boys followed after her.

“I suppose I should assume Stiles won’t be coming home at all then,” John said, breaking the silence when everyone had settled.

“I haven’t decided yet,” Stiles said, anxiety flaring in his chest. He wanted to stay with Derek, that much was true, but he wasn’t willing to give up being close to his Dad yet.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Derek said, running his hand over Stiles’ back. “You haven’t finished your training with Deaton, or high school. You’ll have a better idea of where you want to be when you start applying to colleges next year.”

“Won’t you want something close to here?” Scott asked tentatively. “So you can visit Derek often?”

“The beauty of being self employed is that you can work from anywhere,” Talia said.

Derek shrugged. “It wouldn’t be too hard to find a workshop to use. Most of my clients have their orders shipped long distance anyway.”

“You’d leave your pack?” The Sheriff asked.

“We could go with you,” Erica offered quickly.

Talia smiled easily like she’d been expecting that, even though Stiles was sure he’d never heard it discussed. “Our pack is growing well. I will always prefer to keep them close to me, but it’s not uncommon for packs to branch out and separate. Derek would be well suited to that.”

“If I went home, you’d come with me?” Stiles asked quietly.

“If you wanted me to,” Derek agreed.

“But would you be happy?” Stiles pressed. It was agonizing but much appreciated that Derek took his time to consider the idea before responding.

“I think I could be,” Derek said. “I know I’d want to try.”

The weight Stiles hadn’t realized he was carrying lifted and he gave his dad a hesitant smile. The guilt in his chest unlocked when it was returned. “Do you want to see what Deaton’s been teaching me?”

“I’d love to,” the Sheriff said.

Stiles turned back to Derek, and focused on his eyes. A flurry of colour filled the room bouncing off the walls. It was little more than a party trick, but he could show him more later. He had all the time in the world.

***********

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming on this journey with me. I wasn’t really sure where I was going, I just had some key scenes in mind that I wanted to get out in the world. I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.


End file.
